Nuts and Bolts
by Foureyed-Pufferfish
Summary: One shots, warm-ups and writing exercises. Everything from angst to fluff so sweet it'll glue your teeth together. Every universe is explored and every character stretched to their limits. Current: Obligation: In a world that is falling to pieces, how can we be expected to hold ourselves together? Ratchet-centric.
1. Quick Draw

AN: This story will contain an assortment of works created during writing exercises. They have only been checked for spelling and grammar, none of the original material has been altered. The exercises I do will vary, but each time a new one is introduced I will explain what it is that I am doing. Some may be simple warm up one-shots, while others are speed tests or limited in words. Each piece will also give the Verse it takes place in, and any other necessary information in **bold**.

ANY fiction over T will be labeled! All **M** content will be given a warning and a reason why it is rated that way. Please heed these warnings! Don't like? Just skip over it.

Any fiction not labeled with a warning or rating is K – T.

I'd like to only say this once: **The Transformers and all related content belong to Hasbro. I'm just taking them out for a joy ride and will return them when I'm done.**

Thanks for your time, and thanks for reading.

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**Quick Draw:** One character and one emotion are randomly generated (I've created a generator for this task: www . generatorland ?id=2848) Then you have five minutes to write. Once the timer goes off, finish the sentence and stop.

* * *

**Jet Twins (JetFire)/Furious [Animated]**

A scream of agony ripped from his throat. Fire erupted from his protoform, scorching his platting and sending the air about him into a rippling blaze. Sentinel took a timid step back, his ongoing battle with a seeker clone stopping dead. All eyes watched the once twin rise from his knees, his eyes but slits and his fists clenched so tight that energon seeped from his palm

"Brother," He mumbled hoarsely, his agony quickly turning to a deafening shout, "You murdered Brother!" In a blur, he launched forward, punch after punch colliding with the stunned seeker's chest. Starscream's grasp on the now limp form of Jetstrom failed, sending him crashing back to the earth below.

**Arcee/Pleased [Prime: With All That We've Lost, AU]**

Another blast echoed about the shooting range. Smoke trailed through the air in wisps from the now scorched target. Arcee blew a strand of smoke from the barrel of her gun with a smirk.

"Enjoying the new toys, I see?" Her head whipped to the side to meet the speaker's optics. Ratchet stood in the door way, crutches supporting the bulk of his weight while braces snaked up his legs.

"They're amazing!" She made to help him into the room but thought better of it.

"Weaponry was always Wheeljack's specialty but I suppose I did alright." He returned her grin, "Now fire again, at the lowest setting this time, so I can check the calibration." She nodded, the grin stretching her features threatening to split her faceplate in half, and did as asked.

**Bulkhead - Ill [Prime]**

"Ughhhhh," Bulkhead moaned, spitting the remainder of a second purging into the bucket Ratchet had hurriedly pushed in front of him. With a groan he fell back onto the berth, his arms covering his optics. The distinct scrapping of Ratchet's tools hurt his processor.

"Could you keep it down, Doc?" He mumbled. Ratchet sighed.

"You did this to yourself," He'd be getting no sympathy from the medic. The larger mech simply groaned again. "I told you not to eat those energon goodies; I could _smell_ that they'd gone bad."

"So you've already said," Bulk ground out, his patients wearing thin. "They didn't look bad." Ratchet turned, a brow raised quizzically.

"They'd been sitting in the back of the base since we got here. How could they possibly still be good?" Bulk didn't respond, merely reaching for the bucket again.

**Steve – Drama [Prime]**

"Commander!" Steve reached helplessly, watching in desperation as Starscream was tossed about the room. "Stop!" This time Megatron turned, glaring at the eradicon.

"Knock Out!" The warlord barked, "Take this one to the scrapheap, I have no need for insubordination here." A hand clamped about Steve's shoulder. He struggled helplessly. The medic gave him a sympathetic look before dragging him from the control room. Steve followed, his head hanging.

"Don't worry," Knock Out mumbled, "I won't scrap you. The army's getting too small as it is." Steve glanced down at him gratefully.

"Why does he harm the Commander?" Knock Out sighed, shaking his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

**Cliffjumper – Lust [Prime]**

Primus, that was hot. Cliff squirmed in his seat as Arcee, sighing, licked at her denta a second time. She was doing this on purpose, he knew she was. He yelped as a pede collided with his own. Optimus gave him a confused look which he quickly waved away, but the femme simply smiled. Yep, that confirmed it. She was doing this on purpose.

Heat snaked up his frame as she slid her leg along his, her mouth tilting into a wicked grin.

"Prime," He held up a hand, stopping the mech mid-sentence. Prime raised a brow. "How long is this going to go on?"

"Am I boring you, Cliffjumper?" Cliff bowed his head, biting a servo to keep from squeaking when Arcee's pede reached his knee.

**Mirage – Pressured [G1]**

"But, but, but," Mirage stuttered, digging his heals in as Hound pushed against his back. "Please, Hound. Stop!"

"Ah, come on," Hound pushed harder, "It'll be fun."

"No!" Mirage turned, sending his nature loving companion flying forward. Hound sat up rubbing at his head.

"Please, Mirage," Hound widened his eyes, "just this once." Mirage crossed his arms, looking away. He'd remain defiant for as long as possible. But with the look his lover was giving him, that wouldn't be long. A clicking reached his audios. Was Hound… crying? Mirage threw his hands up. "Fine! Alright!" He shouted, exasperated, "just this once."

"Yes!" Immediately Hound's mock sniffling stopped and he leapt to his feet, shoving his companion towards the door.

**Wheeljack – Approval [G1]**

The thundering rumble that ran through the base was hardly a new occurrence, thus most mechs simply looked up from the menial tasks they were performing, shrugged, and went back to work. All but Wheeljack. The resident scientist had fallen on his aft from the explosion, not so much by force but instead, by surprise. That had not been his fault…

"Jack!" The shout carried easily through his closed door, which slid open to reveal a rather confused and disheveled looking Skyfire, "Did you do that?" Jack shook his head, just as bewildered. A string of violent coughing and the sound of wheezing vents caught both bots' attention. To their surprise, it was Preceptor that entered next, smoke trailing from the hole in his side where an arm once was and platting turned completely black.

"I may have mixed the wrong elements," He mumbled, swatting at the smoke that still clung to his form. Jack simply smiled, patting his partner on his back as he steered him in the direction of the medbay.

"Proud of you, Bud."

**Ratchet – Aroused [Prime]**

Perhaps that last cube of high-grade hadn't been such a good idea. Ratchet leaned heavily to the side as his equilibrium feel prey to the effects of Wheeljack's surprisingly strong brew. A shoulder was there to catch him as always, however, and he leaned welcomingly into Optimus's grasp.

"I'm telling you, Jackie," Bulkhead drowned. Ratchet wasn't paying much attention to the conversation in the first place; instead he allowed his mind to wander, oblivious of the outside world. That is, however, until he felt a hand crawl up his outer thigh and back down again, stroking at the plating there. With a startled gasp he glanced up at Optimus who was obviously not as far gone as he was but still rather overcharged. Ratcheted didn't think he'd seen his leader in such a state since before he became leader. Prime's hand continued to rug at the plating underneath it absently.

Heat snaked up Ratchet's backstrut, settling in his spark. Oh, no , this was not how the night would be going, no matter how appealing. They were simply too drunk.

**Cliffjumper – Fearful [Prime]**

How had it come to this? Kneeling pathetically like a coward in front of the Decepticon second in command had not been on his to-do list. At least he still had his sense of humor. A biting remark seemed to be sufficient to peeve the seeker to the desired point. Cliff stood as tall as he could, restrained as he was on his knees. He'd face this with dignity, no matter how undignified this end was.

End. Something he knew would one day come, they were at war after all, but nothing, no amount of mental preparation, or watching comrades die at the hands of enemy bullets could prepare him for how his spark clenched. He'd leave everything. Everyone. Even Arcee.

Cliff curled in on himself at the thought. Yeah, she was strong, but no one was unbreakable, not even that little spitfire. He would die, that much was certain. Most likely here, and most likely painfully. But his partner? Would she live through watching yet another partner leave her life? The first had been hard on her, exceptionally so. Cliff braced himself as Starscream's hand lunged for his chest and silently prayed to Primus to keep his partner safe.

**Ironhide – Nostalgic [Bayverse]**

When had she gotten so big? "Look at you, little sparklet!" Ironhide scooped up the baffled blond before she could protest, hoisting her to his optic level. "You're taller than you sire!"

Annabel giggled, slapping playfully at the soldier's thumb, "Hey, 'hide, good to see you too."

"Slag," Hide mumbled, "Last I saw you, you were barely bigger than my little finger. When'd you go and get big?" The woman resigned herself to sitting in Ironhide's lap, her back against his fingers, curling into the safe, warm metal.

"I'm twenty two, Hide," She chided, "It's been seven years, we humans grow fast."

"Seven years? That's not so long."

"Is to us." Hide simply smirked, calling up an image of a younger Annabel, one of before her father had been reassigned, and overlaid it on top of the image his optics were currently picking up. The blond haired youth had been so much smaller then, younger, more innocent looking, but just as beautiful as ever.

**Ironhide – Tolerance [Bayverse]**

One more word out of the slagging human's pie hole and Ironhide swore he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crushing her. He'd made the mistake of flashing his cannons inside the cargo bay, though honestly, it was something he did often, why Mearing was up his case now was the true mystery. She'd snapped at him, banging on his pede until he'd had little chose but to listen to her. And listen he had. For a few seconds at least, until he'd decided that her babble wasn't worth his time and had tuned her out.

"Bot! Hey, junk pile, are you listening to me!" Mearing banged at his foot again, sending vibrations up his leg. He glared down at her. A softer hand landed on his other ankle, drawing his gaze. Lennox stood at his side, gazing up at him and shaking his head. Not worth it, he silently mouthed. Hide could consent to that, he supposed. For how long, however, was another question entirely.

**Megatron – Avoiding [Prime]**

Megatron flinched, pulling away from the footsteps that echoed behind his own. He did his absolute best to walk normally, but his legs seemed to want to move faster than his torso, creating a somewhat bowed posture. His arm hung slack at his side, energon still coating the plating from the now dried wound at the joint.

He quickly turned a corner, making for his quarters, but then thought better of it. That was the first place Soundwave would look for him. He honestly wasn't too keen on getting another one of his third-in-command's lectures. They were never true lectures, seeing as the mech was mute, but the pointed looks and accusing fingers where still enough. Megatron sighed in relief as he reached the recroom door, prying it open without a second thought and stepping inside. The eradicons lounging about gave his both curious and rather frightened looks but knew better than to stare for long. Ignoring the oddness of the situation, the Decepticon leader found a vacant seat in the far corner of the room.

Soundwave would never find him here.

**Starscream – Despair [Prime]**

His trine…. His brothers. Gone. Dead. The bond broken, and their constant presence no longer detectible. With a keen, Starscream sank to his knees, clutching at his spark. Faintly he acknowledged Megatron's questioning glare and Soundwave's ever stoic presence but paid them little mind. His finally connection to his old life, a life of peace before the war… gone. Forever. There was no restarting a dead spark, especially ones that existed light-years away.

The bond had grown weaker throughout the decade that Starscream had been separated from Thundercracker and Skywarp, but there was no mistaking the agonizing lurch of his spark and the sudden, all consuming feeling of utter emptiness. He and his trine had never been as close as was common among seekers, but the loss hurt all the same.

"You," The voice was distant, "Take your commander to the medbay, and inform Knock Out that I expect a full report by morning." Arm, gentle and comforting, slid under Starscream's, hoisting him up. He resisted for a mere moment before going slack and allowing the eradicon to lead him away.

**Ratchet – Thick skinned [G1]**

"You fragger of a medic," Ironhide wailed, struggling against the bonds that held him to the berth, "This is your fault."

"Actually, it's yours." Ratchet sighed, pulling at another severed energon line in the weapon specialist's torso. Another string of curses emitted from Ironhide's mouth, some of which would probably blister Bumblebee's paint if he had been present. Ratchet simply chucked. Hide was in no danger of offlining, however, the damage was too near to his spark chamber to send him into medical recharge and his systems where rejecting any form of sensor dampener. A main neural line had been struck to top it all off. Painful? Very. Life threatening? No. Thus the situation was somewhat amusing, as Ironhide seemed to find it the perfect opportunity to practice cursing.

They'd reached the 'slag the medic' stage some time back, once Hide had regained some conscious thought.

"Fragging little pit spawn," He shouted.

"Oh, come on!" Ratchet teased, knowing Hide was looking for a fight, "You can do better than that."

Hide seemed to catch on, "Watch me."

**Sunsteaker – Giggly [G1]**

Sideswipe watched in fringed exasperation as his brother keeled over backwards, holding his chassis and cackled. That had to be some strong high-grade. Too bad Ratchet's latest medical orders left him the sober one for the night. Sunny gasped for breath, his legs kicking out as he attempted to right himself. The red twin grabbed at a pede to haul his brother back up when he nearly received a blow to the face.

"Sides…." Sunny gasped, "You should have seen – then Blaster- It was amazing!" He fought to keep from losing himself to his sudden fit of laughter a second time.

"Yeah, sounds great." Sides laid a hand on Sunsteaker's shoulder when he nearly fell forward, keeping him from face planting into the floor of their quarters. "But I'm really thinkin' you should get to bed, bro."

"Nah." Sunny waved a hand at him, taking another sip from his cube of florescent pink high-grade. "Smmm good." He slurred out an unintelligible sentence for a moment before suddenly collapsing, falling into a overcharge induced recharge.

"Finally," Sides groaned, slinging Sunny over his back as he headed for the berths.

**Knock Out – Hope [Prime, after Crossfire]**

He stooped silently, brushing at the dent in the local flora.

"Well?" Dreadwing's deep voice grated at his audios.

"Defiantly not human." Knock Out mumbled back, pulling a scanner from his subspace. "I still don't understand why Megatron has us out here examining a foot print though." Dreadwing shrugged. Suddenly a shadow flashed at the edge of Knock Out's vision. Had that been-? No, no. He cut off that thought, refusing to allow it to progress further. It just wasn't possible. Another movement caught his eyes, he turned, whirling about. Nothing.

"KO?" Dreadwing sounded almost worried, "You okay?"

"Thought I saw-" He cut off as a rumble echoed about the deserted forest. Both mech's turned, coming face to face with a third pair of optics. The bright yellow glare nearly blinded the Decepticon medic.

"Breakdown," He breathed, taking an uncertain step forward. The voice that echoed back was not that of his extinguished mate.

"No," The frame crept closer, blaster raised, "M.E.C.H."

The ringing shot echoed for miles.

**Red Alert – Yielding [G1]**

"Bu-but Optimus!" Red Alert wailed, raising his arms above his head as if it would better catch his leader's attention.

"I said no, Red. My order is final." Optimus ran a hand over his face plates as Red made to retaliate again. Luckily Prowl saw fit to intervene.

"I would have to agree with Prime on this," He muttered, looking over a data pad and absently taking a sip from his energon cube, "There would be little change in security and your proposal is, if I might be so bold, rather inappropriate." Jazz nodded fiercely beside him, most likely simply looking to keep his private time with his bond mate just that, Private.

"Red Alert," Optimus nearly growled, "I will not allow security cameras in private rooms. Is that understood?"

The security officer bowed his head in defeat; he knew a lost battle when he saw one. "Yes sir," He mumbled, drawing back into his chair.

"Good," Optimus gave one last glace to his data pad before downing the remainder of his cube in one gulp, "Now, I'd like some recharge, so, meeting adjourned."

**Prowl – Devoured [Comic] **_**[M] [Slight Sexual Content]**_

"Ja-Jazz!" Prowl gasped, writhing against the bonds the held him. The mech in question merely smirked, running another hand over his chest and up his neck.

"Good Prowler?" He asked, bringing his glossa out to lap at the sweet energon smothering the tactician's frame. The high grade stung in an all too perfect way as it ghosted over his glossa. Prowl could only manage a moan, bucking against his bond mate. "Tastes good to me," Jazz cooed, enjoying the taste of high grade mixed with the metallic of Prowls plating far too much to be normal.

He ran a hand over Prowl's chevron, relishing in the little gasps and moans that produced. Gently he nipped at his mate's neck cables before snaking his way up to his mouth and consuming it. Their glossa fought blindly, twisting and turning together, but Jazz won out in the end. Not that Prowl minded much.


	2. Obligation

**I found the first paragraph of this in an old notebook during college orientation. Probably not the best time to write, but I simply had to get the idea it sparked out of my head.**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Tradgedy, Angst, Hurt/Comfort**

**Warnings: Dark, Depressing**

**Pairings: Ratchet/Optimus if you squint, Hints at Arcee/Bulkhead**

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Desolation is the only word that can come close to describing the destruction that befell the earth. A holocaust ragged across the land, burning everything in its path. Life, even the most sturdy of it, withered and died under the black cloud of soot that coated the sky. It had rained ash for days and now that the downpour has slowed, every inch of earth is coated in layer after layer of dust. Its ashen gray tint blends beautifully with the rubble beneath it.

Alone in this new land, we wander. My kind is unaffected by the disappearance of flora and our home world is sunless, the dark does not bother me. I kick at the ruble, flipping over a sizable piece with the tip of my pede. Vermin taking shelter from the acidic rain scurry out. I hold still as not to step on them.

"No sign of life here, Ratchet." I turn, facing my leader who, despite his proclamation, is still turning over chunks of cement as he speaks.

"There's no human life anywhere, Optimus," I grumble, "I honestly don't know why we're still searching." He stands to face me, his knees popping as he rises from his crouch. His faceplates are drawn in disappointment and I know my words hurt him but I honestly can't bring myself to care.

"Ratchet," He sighs, "we have an obligation to-"

I stomp down a pede, "We have no such thing," I'm shouting, "We are not sparkling sitters. If these _humans_ cannot handle themselves, we have no obligation to fix their problems."

Optimus takes a step forward, his infamous patience waning. "All life is precious. They are a young race-"

"Ah! So because we are older, we have to help them?" My behavior is inappropriate, I know, but a point needs to be made, and Primus help me, I am going to make it. "What about our lives? Our futures? There isn't anything left on this planet."

His voice has risen to match mine. "There may still be people in need of our help. We can't just abandon-"

"Yes, we can! There is no energon, Optimus. We will starve!" It's true. I'd estimate six months before our supplies go dry, barring any injuries or heated battles. Not that we'd seen any sign of the Decepticons in over a hundred solar cycles.

"We have enough-" He's frustrated that I'm cutting him off, not listening to him, but I've heard this argument before. It's his turn to listen.

"To get to the next planet, maybe, but not if we sit on our tires hoping some humans will just pop up. This is not our responsibility, Opt-"

"It's _our_ fault!" His hand darts out, grabbing my wrist as if to hold me in place, force me to listen. "We gave them _our_ technology, _our_ science, and now _their_ world is dying, dead." His grip has tightened. I can hear metal crunching and warping under his grip.

"Optimus," I whimper, trying to pull away. It hurts.

"Just like our world." With every heave of his intakes his grip tightens that much more. "We can't just abandon them. It _is _our obligation to-"

"You're hurting me." He stops, glances down, and freezes. His grip slackens just enough for me to wrench my crumpled wrist from his grasp. I take a frantic step back, mind reeling. In all the millennia I have known him, Prime has lost his temper more times than I can count. He would not be Cybertronian if he hadn't. But never once has he lashed out at me. Not until now. Unintentional or not, the pain is there, burning and pulsing against my plating.

I hold my damaged hand to my chest plates. Energon drips down my fingers and sparks crackle along the metal. My hands are more sensitive than most, as is required for my field of expertise. I'm in agony. I moan, drawing into myself.

Optimus reaches for me, his optics full of worry and concern. I feel almost ashamed when I flinch. Hurt flashes across his features, self loathing mixed into his frown.

"Ratchet…" He mumbles, his mouth opening and closing, words escaping him. "Ratchet, I – I didn't-"

"I'll be in the ship." I turn, stomping away. Something crashes behind me, and Prime curses. I think he's punched the wall. Looks like I'll have more repairs than just my own today. Once I've worked off some of my anger, which had been threatening to boil over, I ping Bulkhead, requesting for a ground bridge. He sends one, along with a questioning glyph.

Instead of replying I simply stride through back to the ARK, which, due to years of work, is finally functional again. I lift my hand up for him to see, my face plates still scrunched in pain. He grimaces, but comes to my aid. Over the stellar Cycles, the wrecker turned out to be surprisingly good with tools and small details.

"Where's Optimus?" He mutters as he gently pulls the dented plates from around my wrist.

"Don't slagging care," I grumble, hissing when the damaged wiring is exposed to the dry air.

"You two fight again?" I nod. He stops at the look on my face, "Wait," He breaths, "Did he do this?" I can only stare. "Oh, Primus, I'm sorry Ratch." He shakes his head, his gaze remaining on the repairs that need to be done.

"I don't understand it, Bulk," I mumbled, "He just gets worse and worse."

Bulk places his hands in his lap, staring down at me with honest optics. He's grown since we first came to earth, matured. Miko's death was really a slap in the face plates for him. Forced him to realize just how many people he would lose in his life, Cybertronian or human, peace or war. I've watched him grow into a very strong mech. But I've also watched him fall in on himself. We all have. Peace was so much more detrimental to our sparks than war ever was. It gave us time to think, time to fight with one and other, time to hate ourselves and what we'd done. We've all gone downhill, not just Optimus. I'll admit that I've gone from a grouch to just plain depressed, I've even started drinking again, despite my better judgment, and Bulk's reclusive and refuses to get attached to anyone. Bumblebee's probably better off than any of us; he's still young, hopeful. Arcee… Arcee committed suicide years ago, not long after Jack's son died when she got into a wreck. Bulk found her with her own spark casing in her hands. It destroyed him.

"I don't know what to tell you, Ratch." He places a too large hand on my shoulder, "Just let him be for now. Go get some recharge; I'll take over what's left of your shift." I nod, grateful. He pats my shoulder as I leave, though it's a meaningless gesture, he's just as broken as I am.

* * *

The lights are dim and my optics shuttered but the presence beside me is unmistakable. He sits down on my berth, hands in his lap, unsure and unwilling. He doesn't know I'm awake.

A hand hovers over me, skimming my EM field light enough to make me wonder if the touch was really there. A sigh and the touch withdraws. His head falls into his hands and his breath quivers. It's probably the closest he'll ever come to crying.

"Ratchet," He breaths, "I'm so sorry." I twitch, but he doesn't notice. "I'm so sorry. I understand if you don't ever forgive me." His voice has dropped to but a whisper and even in the silence of the room, I have to strain to hear. "I would never hurt you on purpose. Hope you can believe that." He pauses. A hand lands on my forehead, gentle and concerned, but I do not dare stir, "We'll leave tomorrow. You're right. As always." With that he's gone, heading for the door.

"For what it's worth," He jumps, not expecting me to have woken, "I forgive you."

If he said anything, I didn't pay attention as I let my optics fade back to a dim teal and my systems shut down. Silently, I'm glad he's gone. As Arcee once said, 'we're alone on this rock where ever we go.' And it is those moments when he's close enough to feel his breath on my plating that I feel truly, utterly alone.


End file.
